Gunslinger: Alana
by TornadoDash
Summary: The United States and Italy have entered a joint intelligence-sharing operation, including the establishment of America's "Project Alana". Now this G1 American cyborg must live up to heavy expectations with WWIII knocking at the door
1. Geronimo

_(A/N: I'm BAAAAAAAAAACK! With a brand new story. Also, with plans to continue my most popular piece, but more on that one later. This story takes place in the present day, and actual political figures will be used at certain points in the story. This story will be AU, and POV, like all of my stories. Enjoy :D)_

Gunslinger Alana

Chapter 1: Dropping in on Geronimo

In the dead of night, three specially modified Blackhawk helicopters cross over the Pakistani border under the cover of darkness. The first two helicopters, off to our two 'o clock and 11 o' clock prospectively, carry four members each of the elite U.S. Navy Seals team. Their mission is to establish a perimeter around the target area, and make sure no one knows what's going on inside. The third helicopter, in the center of the formation, carries the future of counter intelligence. The Italians called them fratellos: Handlers paired with cybernetically altered children. Little girls with no hope and no future are turned into hardened killers. The American Congress called any type of program, rather it existed or not, to be an abomination.

Well, that's the official story.

Unofficially, the Italians have been feeding us data and gear since the Bush administration. The Obama administration was the first to give us a green light. Under the guise of the "Urban Child Reinvestment Act", we received a blank check and unlimited source of potential subjects. The official name for our group is project Alana, and I am Steven Johnson, the project's founder, and team leader. To my right, is our first graduate and project name sake, Alana sleeps peacefully before her first mission. This unassuming 12 year old girl sleeps peacefully, her soft snores barely audible above the chopping sound of the copter's rotors. Her red ponytail and slim frame covered by traditional Muslim girl's clothing to fit in with our combat area, just in case.

What sets her apart from the other girls she may encounter, other than the M4A1 Rifle gun she clutches on her lap as she sleeps, lies just below the skin. Her skeleton and neural systems are bolstered by cybernetic and neurological implants make her faster, stronger, smarter and more resilient against damage than the normal soldier. Some would call us monsters for what we do, but when 3,000 people are killed with airplanes in a single day, fair is out the window.

"Johnson, we're 60 seconds out, wake up the girl" The pilot says. I nod my head, glaring at him briefly.

"Her name is Alana, soldier." I quip, then gently reach over with my right hand, shaking her softly. "Alana, it's time."

"Okay…" Alana beams up at me through sky-blue ass, half filled with sleep. She yawns softly, then stretches out, rubbing her nose against my shoulder ever so gently, like any other girl her age. But these fleeting moments of normalcy however fly out the window when she pulls the slide on her Assault Rifle, chambering a round before slinging the strap over her shoulder, pulling it close as I ready my own weapon as the seal team copters begin to descend.

"30 seconds out, Seal teams disembarking." The pilot says. I and Alana look out the window as the helicopters land outside of the compound walls. The Seal teams hop out a moment later, heading towards the compound ahead of us. Alana's face changes from one of childish glee to stone-faced. Although her first mission of this type, she knows what this project means, and how important success is tonight.

"10 seconds, dropping ropes!"

The helicopter comes to a hover over the courtyard, and the ropes drop down. Seconds later two more Navy Seals, followed by me and Alana drop down into the courtyard, immedietly crouchind down, guns up and surveying the scene as the Blackhawk pulls off. Suddenly a gear-wrenching sound from above us catches our attention.

"Stephen, the chopper's going down!" Alana shouts as I look up in time to watch the chopper, trailing smoke from the tail rotor as it slams rear-first into the compound wall before crashing into the dirt, sand kicking up as the rotors grind into the earth. So much for a quiet first mission"

"Alana team what's going on in there? We heard a crash!" The Seal team comamnder's voice crackles over the radio as I press the talk button on my ear piece. "Chopper had motor trouble and went down, Seal Team three's getting the demo charges ready, we're moving on with the mission." I reply just as a bullet wizzes by head.

"Incoming!" Alana shouts, then goes prone to the ground. I crouch down next to her and take aim at the three men coming around the corner from the house. Before I can fire back, Alana's on the offensive, pumping three bullets into their skulls.

"Good shooting" I encourage her then pull her up by her collar, waiting until she steadies herself before run for the front door.

"Alright, here's the plan. I'll kick down the door, you give me cover from the left side window" I shout, running at full speed.

"On it!" she yells, then grabs a flash-bang grenade from my belt, sans pin, chucking it through the window infront of her 2 seconds later, the device explodes, stunning anyone inside as my partner leaps feet first through the window. Not what I meant by cover me, but it works. I kick down the door a scond later to find a pile of dead guards strewn around the floor.

I smirk and shoulder my weapon for the moment, patting Alana softly on the head, to which she giggles childishly. "Good job little one". She smiles wide at my compliment as she reloads her rifle. Blood splatters her snow white cheeks, but she shrugs it off like a battle-hardened warrior. My little angel is turning into a little demoness of war, not to mention acing our combat objectives. She leads the way through the kitchen, weapon held high as she checks her corners and keeps her barrel pointed up the stairs like a good soldier would. We enter a hallway with three doors. We look at each other then go back to back, each of us facing a door.

"On three"

"Right"

"one…two…"

"Three!" We kick the doors in, empty. Suddenly the third door opens and a woman rushes out us, I take a step back, allowing Alana to shoulder rush the girl into the left room as I squeeze off two rounds into the man in the room. He slams against the back wall, then slumps over, dead.

Alana, beaming with pride, hits the button on her communicator and screams like a child

"Alana to base, Geronimo is down!"

"I chuckle half in pity and half in relief. This young girl just killed America's number one enemy, and she can take it in with such child-like glee.

End Chapter 1


	2. Unlisted Detours

(A/N: The following chapter includes graphic dialog, reader discretion is advised)

Chapter 2: Unlisted Detours

A few minutes after our target goes down, the back-up helicopter finally arrives. Leaving the clean-up in the hands of Seal Team Six, we board the Blackhawk and settle in for a relatively simple flight out of the country. But as I settle into catch some much needed sleep, my earpiece crackles to life.

"Thompson, y-you th-th-there?" The barely audible voice of my second in command, Jeise Richardson, jars me back to the waking world.

I grumble to myself and answer him "Jeise Switch to channel 109.9, all I'm getting is static on your end. "

"O-o-oh, S-sorry" he says through static, followed by silence as he clicks over to my channel. "Okay, you got me boss?"

"10-4 Jeise, What's going on?" I ask through a yawn, stretching out against my seat as Alana snuggles up against my arm and falls asleep once more.

"I was in the Situation Room watching the attack went down, Alana performed flawlessly." He praises as I smile down at her, gently stroking the hair from her face.

"She performed better than expected, especially without the…drugs…" I say quietly. My mind flashes back to all the girls we lost due to the "side effects" of using conditioning drugs on our prototype Assassins. Because of this, we had to develop the Memory Augmentation And Recovery System (MAARS) to re-organize the girls' memories. "Anyway, I know you didn't call on a courtesy call, so what's up?"

"Well I know you're just _dying_ to get home to the states, but you've been ordered by the Prez to begin stage 2 of development immediately." Jeise always has to use a hint of sarcasm to his orders, hard to take him serious sometimes. But he's an intelligent guy, and my voice of reason.

"So, we're showing off what American ingenuity can do to our allies in Italy?" I stare out at the blackness of the night as our helicopter flies along the Indus River, heading south towards the Arabian Sea.

"Yup, sounds like it. They can use all the backup they can get against the Five  
>Republics in the north. It's two stages from civil war over there." Jeise continued, pausing briefly as someone calls his name before he clicks off. "I just got handed a note, it reads… "The American people are eternally grateful for the actions of you and your team for bringing to justice the man that has eluded us for ten years."<p>

"The American people wouldn't be grateful if they knew how we did it."

"That's why we're a covert operation man; now get some rest, Jeise out."

The rest of the flight was spent in silence; the only noise came from the whirring of the helicopter blades as we made our way back to the carrier. Unfortunately, the silence was broken by a missile warning indicator. Alana woke up with a start and clutched her rifle in her left hand. Using her right hand to study herself, she leaned out of the helicopter, aiming her assault rifle with one hand.

"Alana, w…what are you doing?"

"Missile Hunting!" She yells while searching left to right, putting her super-sensitive sight and hearing to work as she looks for the missile. Suddenly several bursts of gunfire ring out as Alana apparently finds her target. Several seconds later, a loud boom shakes the craft as the missiles' warhead is punctured by bullets. The aircrew celebrates as I grab Alana's hand and yank her back into the craft.

"That was extremely reckless Alana! You almost got yourself killed!" I scold her, then hug her tightly "But thanks for saving our lives." She hugs back lightly with her free hand then pushes me back into my chair. "Don't celebrate yet, multiple stinger missiles on the way." She replies and grabs on to the side of the craft, preparing to lean out and shoot again. Before I can answer that, a loud bang shakes the aircraft, warning bells chime, idiot lights flash red, illuminating the cockpit in crimson as orange flame flicks from the tail rotor. The pilots desperately call out mayday as I grab Alana's arm and hold onto her tight as she begins to slip, her legs hanging outside of the craft as she loses the grip on her Assault Rifle. The gun spirals out of her hand towards the ground as the pilots pull hard on the stick, trying to keep us in the air. Sadly their attempts are in vain, and we slam the ground, kicking up dust and debris….

Everything goes silent for what seems like eternity before I'm roused awake by Alana's shrieks and gunfire. My slowly open, I find myself face down on the floor of the helicopter. I look up to find both pilots dead, their heads cracking the glass. I slowly crawl to my knees, coughing in an effort to clear my lungs of dust from the desert sands. I look up from my kneeling position as a bullet wizzes by my head, followed by a gurgle I see the shot came from a soldier in Alana's grasp, her hands wrapped around her throat. Her Muslim garb-cover torn from her body, parts of it caught in the belt loops of her jeans and covering her shoulders, her gold racing t-shirt cut half way up her stomach from a knife. By the looks of it, that blade was used to cut her shirt, was instead used to dispatch of the soldiers at her feet. A scowl crosses her normally cheerful face as she pulls the bayonet from the soldier's chest before stabbing him in the throat.. I crawl out of the chopper and stagger to my feet as she kicks the knife deeper into her victim's body as he falls to the ground, choking on his own blood.

"How's that for a look asshole?" She shouts before stomping down hard on the knife, causing a spurt of blood to splash upon her cheek as she looks up at me. "They were going to rape me." She says and picks up one of the downed soldier's rifles and throws it towards me. I catch it with one hand and unload the clip checking it for ammo before reloading the AK-47. "Sadly, this is behavior I'd expect from the Pakist…"

"They're not Pakistani." She says quickly, walking away and rubbing her shoulders as if the cool night air was chilling her body. I kneel down next to one of the bodies and look at the shoulder patch, where the letters A.R.F. are stamped in a semicircle above the brand of the earth in the clutches of a balled eagle.

"Hey, are you okay?" I ask the stupid question as I jog up to her, but she shrugs me off. "Just a little shocked, but I'll be fine. I managed to get a transmission from the carrier; a rescue team is going to meet us in the village south of here. They don't know who the troops that attacked us are, but there coming hot and heavy towards this location."

"There wasn't supposed to be anyone on this route." I grumble and grab a few spare clips from the dead soldiers before handing Alana a pistol and starting off towards the village. "Do we have any estimation of the enemy forces?"

No clue. SAM was automated, but those guys launched the stingers." She says nonchalantly.

"Greeeeeat" I sigh and shake my head. Not only is this unlisted detour a hassle, it may end up killing us. "Hey, one question, how the hell did you know there were stinger missiles coming towards us?"

"I could hear the tone of the laser locking on to us in my ears." She points to her right ear for emphasis as we walk along the Pakistani dessert. "Super sensitive hearing has its perks." She giggles as she stuffs the pistol into the waistband of her jeans.

"Looking a little thuggish, don't you think?" I chide her and ruffle her hair. She giggles back and strikes the best urban gangster pose she can, pulling her tattered shirt just high enough so that the gun is visible. She bites her lower lip and grips the handle. I chuckle to myself and roll my eyes. Whether she's trying to be seductive or menacing, she's doing neither well. Suddenly our playful routine is halted as she pulls she gun and spins around, pointing the gun as I drop to one knee and watch the front.

"I hear several truck engines coming this way; the Pakistani's must be coming to see what their missile launched at." Alana speaks, cupping her hand to her ear as she scans the horizon.

"Then let's not sit around, double time it to the village!" We sprint into the night as the dull roar of diesel engines grows in the distance.

"Shouldn't we go back? Blow up the helicopter?" Alana asks, looking over her shoulder quickly. I look back, seeing at least three trucks surrounding the crash site."

"If our luck is good, they'll think the bodies came from the chopper, and it's too dark to find our tracks. We'll be long gone before they realize what's going on. Besides, the chopper is on fire, most of the vital components will be burned by the time we're done." I reassure her while never breaking stride. Giving our current stroke of luck, it wouldn't surprise me if the entire Pakistani military came down on us in a matter of moments. However my chief concern was A.R.F. This force was completely unknown to us, and their sudden appearance concerned me. They were hiding in Pakistan, and obviously had a big enough presence that stinger patrols were required to protect their interests from aerial attack. Whether it be the Pakistanis, or a passing US Military craft.

Whatever the reason, I'm not interested in finding out. We need to get to the Evac point before we're intercepted. We continue to run for what seems like hours before coming upon the outskirts of a small farming village. Since Alana had heard the transmission, she told me that the rescue chopper would land in the northern fields, where a low brick wall sat for cover from fire on three sides, fencing in the back yard of the main house. It was a risk, but it was all we had. We hopped over the wall and rested our heads against it, panting softly to catch our breath.

"How long until the chopper arrives?" I ask between deep breaths. Alana looks at her watch than flashes 5 fingers at me, meaning "five minutes". I nod and close my eyes, exhaling a hearty sigh as I settle in for the wait. I set my watch alarm then wrap my arm around Alana to keep her warm. "I set my alarm to wake us 1 minute before the chopper gets here" I tell Alana as I drift off to sleep.

My brief nap is interrupted 40 seconds later by heavy gunfire. I jump up and turn to the right to see Alana with the AK-47, battling it out with a dozen or so soldiers. She looks over to me then grabs my pistol, shoving it into my chest. "They popped up outta nowhere!" She screamed and grabbed a clip from my belt, going to reload a weapon before she shriek, her body recoiling back as a bullet tears a hole into her chest, just below her right breast. The bullet embedded itself into her ribcage as she clutched her womb, groaning in pain as I grabbed the rifle and let loose a hail of bullets at our attackers.

"I…I'm okay, I can still f-fight." She gasps as I reload, reaching for the pistol and trying to stand on shakey legs. I put a stop to her feeble attempt at resistance by softly but forcefully shoving her back onto her bottom. "Stay down; it's my turn to protect you." I order then take aim, popping three enemies in the chest as bullets wiz by my head. Some of the bullets pound into the wall, and I hear another gasp and look down as Alana clutches her back and slumps to the side, blood running staining the back of her shirt.

I feel a paternal rage overcome me as Alana is hit a second time and I leap over the wall. The stunned soldiers have no time to react as I advance towards them, unloading burst after burst of 7.62mm ammunition as soldiers fall before me. As the shells fly from my gun, I see Alana beside me, unloading with the pistol as she seems to shrug off her wounds. I watch two soldiers slump back against the trucks they road in on as Alana is hit twice in the leg this time. She drops to one knee briefly then seems to go into a fit of rage; she rushes forward and punches the first soldier she sees, sending her fist through the soldier's chest. She pulls her blood covered fist back and turns to the left, grabbing the soldier's knife from his belt she throws it, hitting the second man between the eyes.

The third man, seeing his comrades fall so easily to a little girl, turns to run but catches a bullet in the leg from Alana's pistol as she limps towards him, the scowl on her face back.

"Listen bud, I'm having a really bad day… my helicopter got shot down, I've been shot five fucking times, and someone cut my favorite shirt… so I'm not in the mood for any bullshit. Now, do I have to ask where you came from, or fish it out of your skull?" She asks him as I approach, dropping my gun.

"F…f…fuck you…l…little government-bitch!" the man shouts and punches her in the jaw. Alana's spits out blood and growls at him, shoving the gun into his mouth. "Your buddies already tried, and now their dead, so I'm going to ask you one more time: Who Are you?" She yells and pulls the gun from his mouth, shooting him in his left thigh.

"Aaah! y…y…ou bitch!" The man screams as I cross my arms. "Sir, unless you want to see what she can truly do, I suggest you tell us who you are.

"Y..you'll find out..w…when we burn you f-f-fascists at the s-s-s-stake!" He says. I shake my head t then pat Alana on the shoulder; a silent gesture to do what you do best. She shoves the gun back into the soldier's mouth and pulls the trigger, executing him on the spot. Her rage sated, she limps towards me then falls into my arms, her body beginning to show the effects from blood loss from her injuries. "C…can we go home now?" Alana whines. I stroke her back and nod, watching the wound on her back with concern I noticed that the bleeding had stopped its own, and the hole was already half the size it was when the bullet first entered.

"No more scenic detours next time, promise." I chuckle and sit down with her, holding her close as she drifts off to sleep, groaning as she tries to get comfortable despite the bullet wounds. I take the time while she sleeps to dress her wounds as the distinctive chopping sound combined with the swirling wind accompanies the arrival of our ride out of town.

I cover Alana's face with my hand to protect her from the whipping sand as the chopper lands and the Nay Search and Rescue team disembarks. Accompanying them is two men, dressed in trench coats, and two young girls." The first one, about 5ft. 5inches tall, two long blond pigtails that run down to at least her lower back, and a coat that matches her partners. She holds a M500 Mossberg Shotgun with bayonet attachment. The second girl is considerably shorter, with red hair, and eyes that match the color of her locks. She's dressed in a school uniform, and holding a P90 submachine gun. From the dossiers I've been reading, these are fratello pairings Jose and Henrietta, and Hilshire and Triela from Italy's section II.

I pick up Alana and carry her to the chopper as the fratello pairs go to work investigating the trail of bodies we left in our wake. There will be time for introductions later; right now I have to tend to my partner's health.

End chapter 2.

(_A/N: Read and Review!)_


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